I am full of don't-wannas today. Full of don't-wannas or actually listening to what I want—who can say! Take the fact that I'm writing this newsletter now, instead of doing my morning pages. It's a bit of two birds with one stone, still writing to see what's going on in my head—don't worry, I promise I will edit—but also entirely in opposition to the idea of morning pages, to be writing, here, with a purpose, with an idea of where I'm going and of where these words are going (to you).
This morning, too, I quit in the middle of my workout for I think the first time since I've been pregnant. (There was a lot of quitting workouts and listening to my body's stop then.) It wasn't too hard, I wasn't too tired. I just didn't want to. And so I stopped the video and stood there for a minute trying to listen to what I did want to do. I decided to put on some music and stretch, no time limit, until I felt like I was done.
It ended up being about 20 minutes. When I was in college, any time I acted in a play my pre-show routine was to stretch my entire damn body. I wasn't going for loose so much as the humming leftovers of the pain of a good, hair-too-far stretch. I remember finding a nook backstage for my first show, where I had maybe five minutes of stage-time, stretching my calves and hamstrings so that my whole body just felt a little more aware than it had before I started. Then I walked across the stage and said possibly zero lines. I think I had to paint my whole face in white makeup, too?
I was thinking, yesterday, about the magical yoga workshop I took eight or nine years ago, where we did 90 full minutes of shoulder stretches and hip openers. At the beginning of the workshop we lay on the floor, and just felt what that felt like. Then after an hour and a half of stretches, we lay down again. And then, with the fronts of our bodies so loosened and opened, it felt like we were sinking into the floor as it curved up around us, like we'd done enough work to change physics.
(And I won't mention yoga without mentioning the horrific covid situation in India right now, and the ways you can help.)
At the end of my stretching this morning, I lay on the floor, and I didn't quite feel cradled but my body felt a little softer, like the floor and I weren't quite so at odds.
So that was what I wanted to do instead of my usually enjoyable workouts. They're enjoyable, but they aren't fun. Is stretching fun? Probably not, though in my parched little life it was a bit of an indulgence. Yesterday my don't-wanna manifested as wanting to hang out online—I saw an author was doing an AMA on Instagram, and I thought, That sounds fun, I want people to ask me questions I can answer. What I think I meant was, I want to hang out with people. Or maybe, I want surprises. Or attention. (Always attention.) But I think what I was missing was fun.
I don't remember what fun is. I don't know its shape and boundaries, let alone how to find it in my life right now. It's not quite the same as pleasure or enjoyment—I know how to make space for things that make me feel good, that wretched little self-care list!—and it's not relaxation, nothing passive like that. But fun, it feels like a foreign language. I asked on twitter if any parents of young children out there were finding ways to have fun. I think some of the answers—bike rides with friends! golf!—came from parents past the toddler phase, because I cannot imagine taking that kind of time (not in a self-flagellatory way, I would love to get away for a few hours, but without a babysitter it doesn't seem doable, we barely have enough weekend time to get chores done, passing the baby back and forth in little intervals). There was a lot of "lol no" and "fun? what's that?" A good bit of "Do you mean with my kids? What's fun for them?" And no! I don't! Kids find fun easily, splashing in the sink is fun for my child, everything is fun for him. I mean for us.
Viable answers included video games, car rides with friends while the kids are at daycare, and a babysitter facilitated three-hour bike ride (which was only taken because it was a birthday treat). I play D&D weekly, and it's fun until the last hour when I'm desperate for sleep but pushing through for the benefit of my West Coast friends. I'm thinking about finding an online dance class?
I know this isn't just a parents thing, it's the pandemic and adulthood and modern life and capitalism. Summer is coming with all its promises (and the pressure to make the most of them, I know). I know I'm not alone in this but I still feel silly writing about it. Fun is so basic, so elemental! Maybe you're not suffering from this particular aphasia right now, be patient with me if that's the case. I'll need some rehabilitation, but I hope that eventually I may make a full recovery.
Thank you for reading! Please pardon any typos or sentences that fade out half-way, they're what let me send this out free and weekly. If you enjoyed this newsletter and want to share it, or were forwarded this edition and want to subscribe, the link is tinyletter.com/jaimealyse. You can also follow me on twitter here, and when my book is done and ready to be preordered this is where I will tell you about that.